KEY POINTS:
Don't go. Yes, you are at the Bloc Party gig, not some cheesey dance party.
"What the [expletive] is this music," bawks one chap to his mate. He's talking about Technotronic's Pump Up the Jam, the first of many terrible warm up songs before the Brit' band's first ever New Zealand show. Just think of what he said about next track Call On Me, Eric Prydz' randy remake of Steve Winwood's Valerie. The songs get worse, but many in the crowd are into it and wishing they had their glow sticks. Plus, considering Bloc Party are a rock band you can dance to, and their urgent militant beats are influenced by Britain's rave scene, the two worlds aren't so far away.
When the band wander shyly on stage singer Kele Okereke starts serenading us gently on Song For Clay (Disappear Here), off the band's second album A Weekend In the City, which slowly churns into a frenzy courtesy of man-machine drummer Matt Tong.
Making it even more rave-like are the convulsion inducing strobes - the dude with mirror shades who was leaping round beforehand doesn't look so stupid now.
The majority of the 3500-strong crowd know all the words and second song in they scream the line "So [expletive] useless", from Positive Tension, back at Okereke leaving the singer impressed. "You're very good singers New Zealand," he beams.
Apart from Okereke's striking, mad-eyed looks, Bloc Party are devoid of any image or ego. They're just a band who play some great songs. As a friend pointed out, Noel Gallagher from Oasis described them as looking like a University Challenge team, and he's right.
Often, their sound comes across as two distinct things - the constant rumble of bass and drums versus the guitars and vocals. But the power of Bloc Party is when the two meet, the instruments are mangled together, and the songs seethe into life creating a searing and unnerving onslaught of sound.
There's also beautiful and reflective moments too, like the jaunt of Waiting for the 7:18, the stunning This Modern Love, and hangover anthem Sunday, on which they have two drummers.
The old songs from Silent Alarm, including rousing and riotuous versions of Like Eating Glass and Helicopter (the last song of the encore), sound even better with four years of aging. That's the sign of a good band.
After a polite group hug at the front of the stage and a wave goodbye, that's it. What a cool bunch of chaps.
